


Chrome

by jalexic



Series: Silver [1]
Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Established Relationship, Fluff, M/M, Porn with Feelings, insecure pietro
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-13
Updated: 2017-08-13
Packaged: 2018-12-14 16:18:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,526
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11786841
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jalexic/pseuds/jalexic
Summary: He thinks, briefly, that this would be romantic if he wasn’t hard in his jeans, yet quickly decides that this is romantic enough for him anyway. Who needs flowers and chocolate when you’ve got Captain America between your legs?





	Chrome

**** Pietro blushes and turns his face away. Steve presses a warm kiss to his cheek, and then one on his jaw, and then on his neck. Pietro leans back against the headboard, gazing silently at the wall as Steve mouths at his skin.

Steve stops for a moment, his long fingers brushing Pietro’s hair behind his ear. He breathes against Pietro for a few seconds, just behind his earlobe, and Pietro feels the air rush out of him.

It’s too hot, then, he realises as his shirt rides up from where Steve’s hips are pressed against his. He wants to pull it down, but that would mean taking his hands away from where they’re resting on Steve’s shoulders, and he just can’t bear to lose that contact.

Steve moves his head now, coming around to Pietro’s other side, his nose brushing softly just below Pietro’s lips. Pietro can’t turn away now, especially not with Steve’s hands on his neck; not holding him, just resting there, a feather-light touch that he can’t pull away from. 

Steve raises his head so that they are eye-level. He doesn’t speak at first, just stares intently until Pietro draws his gaze away from the wall, finally facing him. Steve’s expression is calm, his eyes kind, yet questioning.

“All right?” His voice is deeper than usual, and he sounds like he’s close to the edge already. He clears his throat as heat rises to his cheeks.

Pietro breathes out a laugh. “Yeah,” is all he says, and they share a small smile. 

And then Steve is kissing him, and it’s soft and still yet underlined with a subtle urgency. Slowly, so slowly, Steve opens Pietro’s mouth with his own, and then they’re kissing properly. 

The butterflies in Pietro’s stomach feel more like fireworks, and he feels like this is his first kiss all over again. And it’s weird, because he’s kissed quite a few people over the years, what he considers to be an adequate amount, and yet here he is, kissing Steve Rogers like the world has reset and his entire life has restarted in this moment. It’s then that he realises that Steve is the only person he’s kissed who really meant anything, anyway.

Steve’s hands trail down Pietro’s chest, like a hot iron through the fabric, and when he reaches the hem of Pietro’s shirt, he pulls it down respectfully. Steve may not completely understand, and he surely can’t relate, but he’s kind, and he’s willing to allow Pietro this privacy. There are scars, and other things, that Pietro would prefer not to acknowledge. He squeezes his eyes shut as far as they can go, trying not to cry, and he kisses Steve harder as a thank you.

And it continues like that for a few minutes, with Pietro’s hands in Steve’s hair, and Steve’s hands in Pietro’s belt loops, and Pietro’s legs spread while Steve kneels between them, and Pietro’s toes curling and Steve’s fingers twitching. And then, almost suddenly, Steve pulls away.

He breathes out heavily, his face bright red, and almost as if he’s embarrassed, he tilts his head up and presses his lips to Pietro’s forehead. It’s almost a kiss, but not quite, more like he’s leaning against him, like he could fall asleep right there and everything would be okay.

Pietro’s breath crashes against Steve’s neck, his eyes closed and his lips swollen, and he can’t help but smile. He brings one hand down from Steve’s hair, fumbling blindly for a moment before finding Steve’s hand, entangling their fingers. 

He thinks, briefly, that this would be romantic if he wasn’t hard in his jeans, yet quickly decides that this is romantic enough for him anyway. Who needs flowers and chocolate when you’ve got Captain America between your legs?

Steve moves then, and Pietro opens his eyes just in time for Steve to steal another kiss, so chaste that he doesn’t have time to close his eyes again. Steve leans back then, and suddenly there’s a rush of air between them, cold and just begging to be filled. Pietro lets his other hand fall from Steve’s hair, and he doesn’t know what to do with it, so he just rests it atop the rumpled bed sheets. Steve has still got a thumb through Pietro’s belt loop, tugging slightly on the fabric, pulling it downwards.

Except he’s not exactly pulling on it, not really. It’s more like an insistent pressure that is neither increasing nor decreasing. It’s a question, a silent  _ ‘may I?’  _ and Pietro just swallows hard and squeezes Steve’s hand tightly, an unspoken  _ ‘okay.’  _

Steve, bless him, gets the message, and soon his hand moves to the zipper on Pietro’s jeans, an unforgiving and all-consuming heat so close to where it needs to be. Pietro swallows again, and looks up just as Steve does the same. Their eyes lock for a second, sharing a brief look, a reassurance, and then it really begins.

Steve’s hand moves steadily, swiftly popping the button and tugging down the zipper, and soon enough he’s got his thumbs back in the belt loops. By now he’s let go of Pietro’s hand, and Pietro still isn’t sure what to do with his own, so he sort of just grasps the hem of his shirt, his fingers tense. His breathing is shallow to start with, and becomes even more so as Steve pulls down his jeans. He lifts his hips slightly off the mattress in order to aid in the process, and soon enough his jeans are on the floor and Steve is blushing between his bare legs.

Pietro thinks, briefly, that if either one of them should be blushing in this moment, then it’s him and definitely not Steve. But then he realises that, actually, his cheeks are redder than they’ve ever been before, with the heat spreading down his neck, and he shouldn’t have expected any different.

Steve’s hands are just above Pietro’s knees, long fingers spreading across his skin, his thumbs rubbing soothing circles into Pietro’s inner thigh, leaving fire in their wake. He looks a little startled, Pietro thinks, his eyes unblinking and bottom lip drawn between his teeth. But then he glances up, smiles, and dips his head down.

He presses a hot kiss just below the hem of Pietro’s boxers, and then another one a little higher, and another even higher than that, pushing the fabric up with his nose as he goes. Pietro finds he can do nothing but stare, eyes wide and bright, as Steve continues in his ministrations, continuing to rise higher and higher. Soon enough, he can’t go any further, and he pulls back just enough to slip his fingers under the waistband of Pietro’s boxers. He looks up, and Pietro just blinks at him and blushes harder, and apparently that’s all Steve needs as he tugs the boxers down. 

Pietro doesn’t know where to look; he raises his eyes to the roof, but then decides he wants to see Steve’s face, but then realises he doesn’t want to look at  _ himself,  _ and so he just sort of stares at the top of Steve’s head and tries to breathe deeply. But once Steve leans forward, everything else is pushed to the back of Pietro’s mind, and he closes his eyes anyway.

Steve’s lips are warm as he trails kisses along Pietro’s skin, and his breath is even hotter, crashing against him in a cascade of flames. His mouth, though,  _ God  _ his mouth is heaven, and Pietro can only gasp and sigh, his heart beating rapidly, his fingers curling in the sheets. 

They’ve done this kind of thing before, of course, yet Pietro still feels like it’s his first time, not just with Steve, but with  _ anyone.  _ And it’s kind of embarrassing, because he wants to be suave and skilled, not out of breath and blushing. And it’s times like these, thoughts like these, that lead to Pietro wondering why Steve is with him in the first place, but then Steve does that thing with his tongue and caresses Pietro’s inner thigh and he forgets everything.

It feels like eternity, like he’s died and gone to heaven, like Steve is an angel sent by God himself, and Pietro lets out a whine. The fistfuls of sheets in his hands are damp with sweat, and his knuckles are strained white with the grip. His breath is hot and quick, and his hair is falling in his face. He peeks down at Steve, just to see he’s in a similar situation, his eyes blinking quickly as his lips stretch. 

And then he pulls away. 

It’s not sudden and startling, but more of a slow, languid movement. He sits up, wipes his mouth with his hand, then wipes his hand on the sheets. He looks up then, and Pietro just swallows and stares, because Steve looks amazing, his mouth red and his eyes watery. And then he smiles, and everything is perfect.

“How was that?” he asks, and his voice is strained and broken in the best kind of way.

Pietro smiles. “Could’ve been better.”

Steve snorts, grins, and leans forward for a quick kiss. 


End file.
